Abomination
by SxyMo0finMan
Summary: Castiel is lost the first few months after Metatron informed him of Dean's passing. He's hesitant to go back to the bunker to face Sam. He couldn't bear to look one Winchester in the face without the other again. But he grows desperate and makes a return visit back to his home away from home to find a very familiar face but with some noticeable changes.


Castiel was slow going back to the bunker after Metatron had informed him of Dean's death. It had occurred to him that he could have been lying, but there had been blood on that blade and Cas wasn't too sure he wanted to beam down to earth to find out. He couldn't bear to face one Winchester without the other. He'd done it once, and he couldn't do it again.

Before he knew it, a month had gone by and Cas was growing restless. He had doubt about Metatron's words, about almost all of it, but Dean hadn't been speaking on the angel airwaves recently. He'd meditated his hardest, had sent his grace out to touch down on the bunker and feel out the place. Its warding made the waters muddy, but Sam's presence could always be felt. But there was no sign of Dean. Each time Castiel tried to reach him and failed, his heart contracted and he felt desolate and broken.

When almost two months had passed since Dean's reported death, Castiel couldn't take it anymore. He steeled himself, prepared himself for the truth that would be worse than the lie and appeared before the bunker's stone walls. The brick-lined entrance with its backdrop of trees and nature didn't fill him with giddiness like it used to, only a great sadness. He took a deep breath, clenched his fingers into fists, and walked down the stairs to the steel door.

Normally Castiel would have just beamed into the depths of the Men of Letters' lair, usually appearing in the library to speak with Sam or to the armory to watch Dean perfect his shooting technique. But now was different. The halls would not bring him peace. He wanted to immerse himself slowly this time to bring up his walls and build himself a fortress against the pain he was sure to face. Plus, he might as well give Sam some warning to his coming. And so, Cas knocked on what would be the Winchesters' front door. Cas turned away from the door as he waited, looking back out towards the road. He shifted back and forth on his feet, hands clenched in fists behind his back.

It wasn't but a few minutes before he heard footsteps coming from inside. He stayed facing the outside world, breathing in the air slowly, in through his nose and out through his mouth, as he waited for the world to turn off its axis. The tumblers rolled over and clicked, the door's mechanisms taking into effect as it slowly swung open. Still Cas would not turn. He felt with his grace, searched for who was there. The warning bells went off in his head when what he felt wasn't Sam, but something sinister and wicked. A demon.

Castiel turned quickly on his heels, his body tensed to defend himself. Despite his attempt to armor himself against what the inside would hold, nothing he could have done would have prepared him for what he faced.

"Dean?" Cas asked on the end of a breath, his wide eyes searching the other's face. The relief he felt at seeing the older Winchester went out in a flash and he felt cold all over. Through the mask of humanity that Dean wore on his face, Castiel could see what laid beneath. His visage was twisted and gnarly, the honeyed green of his eyes now black as pitch. Dean's face was gaunt, cheek bones sharp and pointed, his skin grey and scaled, and where lips and mouth should be was a black hole full of teeth pointed like spears that pulled away from rotted gums. In short, Dean was an abomination. Even still, Castiel was across the door frame in a flash, his body moving of its own volition.

This had been the last thing Dean would've expected when he'd opened the door. He'd had to deal with the homeless before, maybe a couple of juvenile delinquents looking for some thrills now and then, and he was prepared to scare the off with raised voice and harsh tones. When he saw Castiel's back to him, he'd froze. The breath had left him like he'd been punched in the gut, the pain in his chest unsettling as his heart jumped a beat. Dean hadn't felt this close to human ever sense he'd been brought over to the dark side.

As Castiel turned to face him, Dean went wide eyed. The angel looked so _different_. There was the kind, sullen face and the blue eyes that showed so much emotion, but there was something strange lying underneath. Light seemed to seep from Castiel, spilling out from his mouth while the other spoke his name, the deep tones of his voice echoed by the sharp peel of bells. Underneath Castiel's borrowed human flesh, if Dean focused hard enough, he could see something alien and smooth as stone, a pale white visage that had empty eye sockets and no other discerning features.

The Winchester flinched when the angel basically flew at him, his eyes bleeding black as he tensed for impact. There was a sickening moment where Dean thought he was going to have to fight Castiel, where he was sure an angel blade would materialize and go straight for his heart. Instead, strong arms encircled him and he was being smothered by a tan overcoat.

Dean kept his arms at his sides, afraid to move. He could feel Castiel shaking as the other clutched at him, shoulders shuddering every now and then. Was Cas… crying? Dean brought his arms up around the smaller man, his fingers clutching at the tan coat as he held Castiel tighter, a cool wetness at his throat.

"Hey," he said softly, voice scratchy and rough as he had to choke down his own emotions, "Don't, man. Just… don't."

Castiel hugged Dean tighter, ignoring the vast openness of the bunker's main hall and Sam at the table, his body rigid in the chair as he watched the two embrace. Cas was so happy to see the other alive that he felt weak. So what if he was an abomination? Castiel could still sense Dean's humanity buried somewhere underneath all the layers of twisted hell, and that's all that mattered. This was all that mattered.

"I thought you were dead," Castiel said in a hushed whisper so only Dean would hear as he reluctantly let go of the hunter. He stayed close to him, looked up at him and took him all in. He could feel the moisture that dampened his cheeks, the moisture that wouldn't stop falling. "I couldn't sense you, couldn't ge—Metatron, he said you were… that I failed—"

"I'm not," Dean cut in, a tight smile barely tilting up the corner of his lips as he reached up to brush a falling tear from Castiel's cheek, his hand moving to cup the other's face. He could feel Sam staring hard at his back, but he could have cared less. He wasn't hiding anymore. "I'm here, I'm right here."

_And that's how it's always going to stay._


End file.
